


Transfusion

by TitansRule



Series: Trials and Tribulations [8]
Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Romance, Stelena, datherine, trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TitansRule/pseuds/TitansRule
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damon and Katherine find ways to entertain themselves in Stefan and Elena's absence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You may want to read the first stories in the series first (namely Transition, Truce and Traditions) for this to make sense.

The boarding house was almost suspiciously quiet, but there really was no reason for anyone to be concerned.

The house was dark, the only sign of life the soft glow of the fire in the library. Katherine was curled up in one of the wingback chairs, a book in one hand and a glass of blood-laced bourbon in the other.

Stefan and Elena had been away for a month and, judging by the cheerful postcards that kept arriving, were having a wonderful time.

Both Damon and Katherine would insist that they couldn’t care less what their housemates were doing, but the fact remained that the postcards were all stuck to the refrigerator and, although Damon and Katherine wouldn’t admit it, they were both bored stiff.

Damon was up in the attic somewhere – unless he’d decided to go out hunting without her – supposedly ‘de-cluttering’.

Earlier that day, he had announced that there was too much ‘stuff’ being hoarded in the house, and that he was going to do something about it.

Katherine was fairly certain that, for all his insistence to the contrary, nothing would actually leave the house – just get moved around a bit.

At that moment, he reappeared. He said nothing, but poured himself a drink and settled into the chair opposite her.

Katherine glanced up at him, a smile crossing her face. She wasn’t one for reminiscing as a rule, but the quiet of the house, the soft glow of the fire, brought back memories of the few days they had spent at the lake-house, hiding from the world, in 1864.

When she caught sight of his darkened expression, however, the smile slid from her face. “What did you find?”

“My father’s journal.” Damon answered flatly. “I read through it when we were trying to open the tomb, to see if he knew where Emily’s grimoire was, but I just flicked through it again.”

Katherine set her book aside and leaned forwards. “And?”

“He knew I deserted.” Damon finally looked up to meet her eyes, and she almost flinched at the light shining in them. “He knew I deserted, and he did nothing. That’s got to count for something, right?”

Damon spent so much time resenting – even hating – his father, that Katherine sometimes forgot that somewhere deep inside him, there was still a young boy who had just lost his mother and craved his father’s love and approval.

“Damon …” Katherine hesitated. She could lie, of course. It was unlikely that Damon would ever know. But if he _did_ find out, he would never forgive her.

Crossing the floor to settle herself in his lap, Katherine gently carted her fingers through his hair, her hand coming to rest on the back of his neck. “Damon …”

“What?” Damon asked, almost visibly deflating.

Katherine sighed. “Do you remember the night I told you what I was?”

A small smile graced Damon’s face. “How could I forget …?”

 

_The moonlight trickled through the window, but the two lovers hidden away in Damon’s bedchamber paid it little attention._

_His lips travelled down Katherine’s throat, lavishing her skin with attention, and she let her head fall back, not quite allowing herself to relax completely._

_“I love you.” Damon murmured against her pulse point, and something twinged uncomfortably within her. He lifted his head, his eyes drinking her in with wondering adoration. “How did I ever survive without you?”  
_

_Katherine gave him a coy smile. “Oh, I’m sure you managed.”_

_Damon lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it gently. “You’re my angel, Katherine, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”_

_“You’d manage.” Katherine repeated, a little coldly. For three hundred years, she had survived without her humanity, and it irked her a little that this boy (man) could unintentionally tease it out of her with a few words and a smile._

_He was just so … innocent. A boy trapped in a man’s body._

_She desired him, that was all. It was purely physical attraction, and he happened to be very talented, unselfish (unlike so many men), at bringing her pleasure._

_That was the only reason she continued to carry on with Damon in private while his brother courted her in public._

_The only reason._

_His naivety irritated her a little._

_Didn’t he realise she could kill him without a second thought?_

_Of course he didn’t._

_Unlike his brother, he had no idea of the darkness that lurked behind her smile._

_“You’d manage.” She said for a third time. “I’m not an angel, Damon. Not even close.”_

_Blood crept into her eyes, dark veins skittering across her cheeks as her fangs descended. Her body screamed for his blood, wanting to tear into his skin, punish him for daring to make her feel again after so long._

_The house was big enough, her compulsion would not be needed until the following morning, no one would hear him scream._

_But he didn’t scream._

_She watched fear enter his eyes with some kind of morbid fascination, but he didn’t scream._

_“Are you a vampire?” He whispered, his hand racing to trace the raised veins on her face._

_“Yes.” Katherine answered, postponing any action, now beyond curious. “I’m a vampire. Not an angel.”_

_His gaze had dropped to her fangs, but now it rose again and she bit back a gasp, seeing that the fear had melted away to the same love had been there previously. “You’re my angel.” He repeated. “Vampire or not. I love you, Katherine.”_

_Something was creeping up inside Katherine’s chest, wrapping itself around her tightly. Her face relaxed on its own accord, and she hastily pulled away from him. “I … I have to go. Emily …” She trailed off, unable to think of a good excuse, and then didn’t even bother trying to find one, fleeing the room and almost running to the opposite side of the house._

_There, in the dark confines of an alcove, Katherine attempted to school herself. Emotion was trying to force its way back into her heart, she could no longer pretend that her feelings for Damon were purely physical, but she fought it, and she fought hard._

_Then, just as she was about to concede defeat, a door opened down the hallway. Faced with the inevitability of meeting someone, Katherine was able to force her guard back up, her face melting into calm neutrality. As she left the alcove, Giuseppe Salvatore rounded the corner, looking surprised to see her._

_“Miss Pierce!”_

_“Mr Salvatore,” Katherine greeted, dipping a quick curtsey. “I do hope I didn’t disturb you.”_

_“Of course not, of course not.” Giuseppe seemed harried, almost as though he was speaking to her purely out of civility._

_Katherine tilted her head. “Mr Salvatore … are you feeling alright? You seem shaken.”_

_“Miss Pierce, I couldn’t possibly trouble you with an old man’s worries.”_

_Katherine laughed daintily. “Hardly an old man, sir … Someone once told me that a problem shared is a problem halved … Perhaps it would hold true here.”_

_Giuseppe sighed. “Miss Pierce, I fear it is something a young lady such as yourself would find utterly disgraceful.”_

_Katherine took a step towards him, laying a careful hand on his arm. “Tell me.” She said softly._

_All the vampires knew some of the townspeople were aware of vampires, but how close they were, she couldn’t be sure. Until she was, they had agreed that compulsion should not be attempted on any of the founding families – just in case someone had managed to get their hands on some vervain._

_Giuseppe sighed distantly. “There comes a time, Miss Pierce, when a man must choose between his loyalty to his country and his family.”_

_Katherine waited silently, her undead heart beginning to beat harder._

_“I suppose it will come out eventually.” He continued, absently folding the letter in his hands. “My … No, he is no son of mine …”_

_“Damon?” Katherine guessed softly._

_“Yes. He has deserted the Confederacy.”  
Katherine gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. From the expression on his face, it was clear he thought she agreed with his disgust, but she wasn’t acting._

_It had suddenly struck her what he was going to do._

_The letter in his hands was not informing him of the situation, it was meant to inform._

_And when it arrived at the base in a few days’ time, Damon’s life would hang in the balance. If those in charge didn’t dispatch a firing squad, then it was likely his former comrades would form one themselves._

_Fear flooded her, a fear she hadn’t felt in over three hundred years, and she acted without conscious thought or care for the consequences._

_Catching his eye, she waited for her compulsion to take hold before speaking. “You are not going to tell anyone that Damon has deserted. You are going to give me that letter and pretend you never wrote it. Your loyalty is to your son, whatever your personal feelings towards his desertion may be. We never had this conversation.”_

_Blankly, Giuseppe handed her the letter, turned around and returned to his study._

_Letting out a breath, Katherine blurred back to her bedchamber, shutting and locking the door, before tearing the letter into tiny scraps and throwing it into the fireplace._

_“Miss Katherine?” Emily asked softly, from the adjoining door. “Is everything alright?”_

_“No.” Katherine said in a low voice, tears beginning to well in her eyes. “I’m feeling, Emily. And it hurts.”_

 

As Katherine’s story came to a close, she forced herself to meet Damon’s eyes. He looked torn, unsure whether he should be grateful nor not.

“Damon?”

“He wanted me dead.” Damon said flatly. His mouth curved into a humourless smirk. “Didn’t think it was possible for him to hate me more than I hated him.”

“I could have killed him.” Katherine said a low voice. “If fear hadn’t hit first …”

“That’s how your humanity turned back on?” Damon asked suddenly. “I thought it was because you fell in love with me.”

Katherine laughed. “Silly boy,” she said affectionately, “it was because I was already in love with you. The idea of you dying was so awful that it scared me more than anything.”

“He wanted me dead.” Damon repeated, shaking his head.

“I didn’t want to tell you.” Katherine admitted. “Stefan said I should – was he right?”

“My brother, for all his faults, generally knows me pretty well.” Damon said, quite obscurely. “I’d rather know. Makes me feel much better about hating Father’s guts.” He pressed a kiss into the hollow of her throat. “Can you change the subject?”

“Alright.” Katherine agreed, a little reluctantly. “You were kidding when you said that your best man speech was their wedding gift, right?”

“No.” Damon said, rolling his eyes. “I’m not getting them a toasted sandwich maker when we both know they’re not moving out.”

“Damon!” Katherine protested. “I know it seems pointless, but you can’t just say something nice and call it a present!”

“Sure I can.” Damon said dismissively. “This is hardly the change of subject I had in mind.”

Katherine sighed. “Then _you_ change the subject.”

“Alright.” Damon agreed, a glint in his eye. “I found my old Confed uniform up there. I seem to recall it having a rather strong effect on you back in the day.”

Katherine let him draw her in, a smirk crossing her lips. “I do love a man in uniform.” She purred. “Do you have your old WWII one as well?”

Damon raised an eyebrow. “How’d you know about that?”

“I was stalking you.” Katherine whispered. “Don’t tell anyone. Nearly smacked Lexi for that one.”

Damon’s brow creased. “You saw that, huh?”

“Mm-hmm. Well done for still going. Whatever she said, you and Stefan needed each other.”

“Stefan didn’t think so.” Damon grumbled.

“Stefan didn’t …” Katherine looked puzzled for a second, then her face cleared. “Oh … Damon, have you spent the last 70 years thinking that Stefan told Lexi to tell you to leave?” She shook her head. “Damon, he didn’t tell her. Unless you’ve told him, he might not even know now.”

“Crap.” Damon sighed. “So I’ve been mad at my brother for 70 years for something he didn’t do, and my own girl just cockblocked me.”

Katherine laughed. “In my defence, I thought you knew. _Do_ you have your old WWII uniform? Because you looked _really_ hot in that.”

“I’m sure I can find it.” Damon assured her with a wink. “In the meantime, I’m rather shell-shocked and in need of comfort.”

“Of course.” Katherine murmured, running her lips down his throat. “And while I comfort you, you can tell me what you’re up to.”

“Up to?” Damon asked.

“You haven’t been in the attic.” Katherine told him absently, nipping at his collarbone. “You’d be all dusty if you were. And your father’s journal would have been in your room or Stefan’s, if you used it when you were trying to get into the tomb. So what were you up to?”

Damon sighed. “Well, I figured, since Stefan and Elena are getting a vacation, that maybe we should take one too. Just for a few days. Change of pace. Change of scenery.”

“Alright.” Katherine agreed easily, arching into his touch as his hand slipped beneath her shirt to caress her gently. “Where are we going?”

Damon smirked. “Now that would take all the fun out of it, wouldn’t it?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I own NOTHING. Also, I am soo sorry for the delay in updating this fic. Season 5 really disappointed me and I lost my inspiration a little. So welcome to the town of Denial (Population: Me, and whoever wants to join me), where everything is Stelena, Datherine and Klaroline, and nothing hurts!
> 
> Also, I know very little about Bulgaria, so please forgive my ignorance :)

Katherine should have been expecting a private plane, but then she’d also expected Damon to drop the ‘surprise’ when they reached the airport, not when they arrived at their destination.

Not that she was complaining – as much as Katherine disliked being in the dark, she disliked public transport even more.

Instead of spending the ten-hour flight dealing with screaming children, airline food, and other passengers, they were alone, with only a couple of compelled pilots for company and a backdrop of soft music.

“I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.” Katherine murmured, as Damon kissed his way up her neck.

“Good thing you know better.” Damon said with a smirk, pulling away from her.

Katherine raised an eyebrow. “You’re not really stopping, are you?”

“Yes.” Damon caught her hand and kissed it. “We’re here.”

“Where is ‘here’?” Katherine asked again. “Where are we going?”

“Just a bit longer, Kitten.” Damon said soothingly. “I’m not about to blindfold you.”

“You’d lose your hands if you tried.” Katherine said under her breath, as the plane touched down. She took his hand as they exited the plane, her eyes darting around for any clue as to where they were.

Of course, it didn’t take her long for her gaze to fall on one of the many signs dotted around the airfield, the language sending an unexpected pang through her.

“Bulgaria?”

“Yeah.” Damon said, watching her closely. “If you’d rather we go somewhere else …”

“No!” Katherine interrupted hastily. “No, I want to stay. I was just surprised, that’s all. I haven’t been back here since around 1540.”

“So what you’re saying is neither of us knows where we are.” Damon concluded. “Fantastic.”

“But I, at least, have the benefit of knowing the language.” Katherine pointed out, snagging his jacket to change his direction. “So I know we want to head towards the door labelled ‘exit’ instead of ‘baby changing’. Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”

To give Damon credit, he didn’t allow her to faze him. “Oh, darling, I was hoping to tell you in a more private setting.”

Katherine laughed, tucking her arm through his, steering him out of the airport.

“Bet it looks different from the last time you were here.” Damon commented.

Katherine snorted. “That’s an understatement. Last time, I left via boat.” As they left the main terminal, she snagged a map of the city. “Hotel?”

Damon peered at the map over her shoulder, and pointed to one on the outskirts. “That one. Near Krivina.”

“Krivina.” Katherine repeated, correcting his pronunciation absently. “Then we need to go …”

“Excuse me.” A heavily accented voice said. “You are … lost?”

Katherine gave the elderly lady a bright smile, responding in perfect Bulgarian. “I’m afraid so. I lived here when I was young but things have changed since then. Would you mind helping?”

“Of course not, the city changes so quickly.” The woman seemed relieved that Katherine spoke the language, and cheerfully explained the quickest way to reach their hotel.

“Thank you.” Katherine said, once she’d made a note of the route. “We’re here for a week, is there anything you recommend we do?”

From the look of it, the question made the old lady’s life. She nodded vigorously, chattering about the various tourist attractions in and around the city, and Katherine nodded absently, only half paying attention.

Eventually, the woman ran out of recommendations and Katherine thanked her, before pulling Damon away.

“Finally.” He muttered. “Did you get any of that?”

“Yeah, there’s a whole lot of nothing to do.” Katherine said. “Guess we’ll just have to find ways to entertain ourselves.”

Damon smirked. “Oh, I think we can manage that.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter!” Katherine chided in mock-horror. “I was talking about teaching you Bulgarian.”

“Oh very funny …”

The bickering followed them through the city and didn’t stop until they walked into their hotel room, when Katherine fell silent to observe it.

“Admit it.” Damon said, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I’ve got good taste.”

“Well, obviously.” Katherine said, smiling. “You’re with me, aren’t you? I’m going to take a shower … alone.” She added, when he opened his mouth. “Flying always makes me feel … icky.”

Damon chuckled, releasing her in favour of picking up the tourists’ guide that was lying on the desk. “I never thought I’d hear you use the word ‘icky’. Go ahead. I’m going to let myself into the conversation you were having earlier.”

Katherine’s shower didn’t take long, and when she emerged, wrapped in a fluffy white robe, Damon was still reading through the booklet.

“Find anything interesting?” She asked, rooting in her bag for a hairbrush.

“Just that Bulgarians are crazy.” Damon answered.

“Thanks.” Katherine said, her head tilting in confusion. “Why?”

Damon tapped the page he was looking at. “There’s a monument not far from here – a village kept exactly the same as it was in the 1500s because the surrounding villages didn’t want to anger evil spirits.”

Katherine snorted, sitting beside him. “Well, that’s …” She cut herself off, staring at the picture Damon was looking at. “Oh my God …”

“What?” Damon asked.

“That’s … That’s the village I grew up in.” Katherine said quietly. “The entire village was slaughtered by Klaus after I turned … the neighbours must have been too scared to clean up.”

Damon closed the booklet hastily. “You hungry?”

Katherine let him change the subject with no shortage of relief. “Starving.”

***

They caused a fair bit of chaos that evening. The news that her former home may well have still been standing had come as quite a shock to Katherine, and it was a feeling she violently disliked, so she tried to drown it.

A small town near the hotel became their playground for the night, but it didn’t make her forget. If they were back in the US, the town would have wound up empty, but in her native country, it was just too close to home, even if the locals did wake up the following morning somewhat anaemic.

For the rest of the week, neither of them mentioned the village, focussing on the other sights and charms of Bulgaria instead.

Just as she promised (or possibly threatened), Katherine took the opportunity to start teaching Damon her mother tongue. He picked it up quickly, (despite his constant mistakes just to annoy her), and she took to switching to Bulgarian mid-sentence to try to catch him out.

This all did a wonderful job of distracting Katherine, but she awoke on the last full day of their vacation with a pit in her stomach that told her she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Damon knew what she was thinking before he even opened his eyes. “You want to go, don’t you?”

Katherine nodded with a sigh, her head resting on his chest. “I need to.”

Running his hand up her back to grasp the back of her neck, Damon pressed a short, hard kiss against her lips and rolled out of bed. “Alright. Let’s go.”

***

Walking into the village was a rather surreal experience, and Katherine was once more very grateful for compulsion.

The volunteers and employees were convinced to close up for the day and go home, leaving Damon and Katherine to wander through the small cottages, her entire body tense with emotion she didn’t want to feel.

Slowly, Katherine began to relax, pointing out places she remembered, gradually allowing the memories back in.

“There was a huge tree in the centre there.” She said softly, pointing to the stump that remained. “The children used to play around it in the summer, when they could.”

“Did you play with them?” Damon asked.

“Sometimes.” Katherine said with a shrug. “When I was about … eight, my father put his foot down, said I wasn’t to associate with the other children. He had rather large delusions of grandeur. I mean, technically, we owned this land, but we weren’t _that_ better off.”

Damon looked around. “So where did you live?”

“There was a bigger cottage down here.” Katherine said, leading him towards a path partially concealed by bushes. “I doubt it’s …” Her words stuttered to a halt as they rounded the corner.

While the rest of the village had been preserved wonderfully, it still looked like a tourist trap, with modern seats and lighting and pathways.

But the home she grew up in was roped off, the tourists kept out by a low fence adorned with a notice.

“What does it say?” Damon prompted.

“‘This house would have been owned by the local landowners, believed to have been the Petrova family.’” Katherine read, her voice more composed than she felt. “‘Although all three family members were killed with the rest of the village in the mysterious events of 1492, it has been widely reported that an illegitimate child survived, and until permission is gained from remaining family members, the house will be off-limits to the public.’”

Damon snorted. “They wouldn’t bother in the US. Just wait for a lawsuit.”

“From what I’ve gathered, this is a family-run preserve.” Katherine said absently, her gaze flickering back to the house. “They’re probably sticking to tradition.” Taking a deep breath, she stepped over the rope, walking towards the front door.

The last time she had walked through that door, she had found her mother and father lying in pools of their own blood, along with the few servants they had.

She felt rather than heard Damon behind her, and reached back to take his hand. Damon was probably the only person she trusted enough to completely lower her guard around, and she wasn’t afraid to admit that the idea of facing her childhood home was daunting at best.

“We don’t have to.” He said quietly.

Katherine took a shaky breath. “Yes,” she said, resting her hand on the door. “I do.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katherine seems a little OOC in this chapter, but in my defence, it's a pretty unusual situation.

Katherine half-expected the house to have been modernised on the inside, but it looked exactly the same as the last time she had been here (minus the blood and the dead bodies). It might not have been open to the public, but it had been beautifully looked after.

She reached out to touch one of the chairs, obviously re-upholstered, but almost the same colour and fabric it had been when she was a child.

“My mother used to sit here and embroider.” Katherine said absently. “I used to play by her feet. She taught me how to read.” A smile crossed her face. “She used to hide the books under her sewing because Father didn’t think women should be educated.”

Damon snorted. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

A sudden thought crossed Katherine’s mind, and she made her way up the stairs, wondering if anyone had found it over the years.

“You know, it’s just occurred to me.” Damon said, following her. “If your family was still here in 1492 … and obviously you never married, or you wouldn’t have still been Petrova when you turned … what were you doing in England?”

“Pretending I didn’t exist.” Katherine said dryly, examining a book case. A quick glance at the floor told her that it hadn’t been moved in a long time, possibly not since before her departure. In fact, a human would have had trouble moving it at all now, but her vampire strength made it easy to slide aside to reveal the wooden door it was concealing.

“Second question.” Damon said, his frown audible in his voice. “Were your family in a habit of hiding rooms?”

“Only this one.” Katherine muttered darkly, following the dark, winding staircase up into the attic. She emerged into a tiny room that brought back memories in a huge flood of emotion that she forced back.

This … This was the reason she had been anxious about coming home.

Casting a wary glance at the floorboards, which didn’t look in the best condition, she skirted the edge of the room to reach the window, gazing out at the forest that shielded one side of the village.

“Katherine?” Damon asked gently. “What was this room?”

Katherine didn’t respond for a few minutes. When she did, it wasn’t to answer the question. “There was a man named Boyan who looked after the horses. He was about as old as my father, and I considered him a second father. He used to accompany me on rides, and I could talk to him about anything.”

“This was his room?” Damon guessed.

Katherine smiled weakly. “No. When I was fifteen, I confided in him that I felt … Well, I felt alone. I was unmarried with few prospects.”

“You were fifteen.” Damon repeated. “And you? I doubt it.”

“No prospects my father approved of.” Katherine amended. “Delusions of grandeur, remember? And most girls were married off at around thirteen back then – as soon as we could bear children.” She took a shaky breath. “He told me that he loved me and that any man would be lucky to have me as a wife …”

“And here I thought that line was modern.” Damon growled, scowling. “I’m guessing he left you alone.”

“Not quite alone.” Katherine said softly, opening the chest beneath the window. Much of its contents had degraded over time, especially since this room had apparently never been found by the house’s benefactors, but one blanket, which would have become her baby’s first swaddling cloth, remained intact, and she pulled it out carefully, her fingers tracing the embroidered stitching.

“This was _your_ room.” Damon concluded. “They moved you here because you were pregnant.”

Katherine nodded. “Father was determined that the child would remain a secret. That we could pretend it never happened, and he could marry me off still. I had a plan though. I was going to pass the baby to one of the maids, who would smuggle her out of the house, and then I’d make a rope out of sheets and climb out of the window. Then we’d find a cottage somewhere, and we’d be fine.” She finally looked up at Damon, not entirely sure what to make of the expression on his face. “I’d spent enough time in the village – I knew a little about farming, enough to plant vegetables, and keep chickens, and … We could have done it, Damon. We really could.”

Damon reached out and tucked a strand of hair out of her face. “She was stillborn, wasn’t she?”

Katherine closed her eyes. “No. She was born perfectly healthy. But she … They took her. Mama delivered her, cleaned her up, and handed her straight out the door to my father, who took her away.” She could feel tears burning at the backs of her eyes, and blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of them.

Damon’s arm settled around her shoulders and she leaned into him gratefully. He was the only person in the world she would feel entirely comfortable breaking down in front of (if she could ever feel entirely comfortable breaking down, that is).

“Why do you never talk about her?” Damon asked.

“It was drilled into me that I couldn’t.” Katherine answered, almost monotonously. “I lost my baby, and then I had to pretend she never existed. And now … it hurts, Damon. It’s been five hundred years – more – since I lost her, and it still hurts like it was yesterday.”

His arms tightened around her, and she felt him press a kiss to the top of her head.

“She was happy. And she was healthy. And she was loved. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

“Someone having a good life doesn’t mean that you’re not allowed to miss them.” Damon said into her hair. “She was your _daughter_ , Katherine, and you’re her mother.”

“I found her when she was eighteen.” Katherine continued, clinging to him. “I watched her grow, marry, have children … and then on her death bed I went to her. She … She’d been told I died in childbirth, but she looked right at me and said, “Mama, have you come to take me home?”” Her voice broke, and she stopped trying to fight the tears that escaped her. “It was the only time I got to hold my baby and she died right there in my arms.”

Tucking her head into his neck, Damon practically enveloped her in his arms, rocking her gently, murmuring soothing words against her skin.

They stayed that way for some time, until Katherine shifted slightly in his embrace, letting out a sigh. “I haven’t really spoken about her for a while.” She said quietly.

“You don’t say?” Damon said, glancing down at her. “What was her name?”

“Anastasia.” Katherine answered softly.

Damon nodded thoughtfully. “Is that why you avoided Pearl’s daughter when you could?”

Katherine was quiet for a moment, before she chuckled. “I should’ve known you’d noticed that. Partly. I’d always called my daughter Ana in my head, and it was a little bit of a threat to the switch, but it was mostly because Anna rubbed me the wrong way. I never understood how Pearl ended up with her for a daughter – Anna was much more like me.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Damon said, kissing her neck.

Katherine smiled wryly. “Like me at my worst. Ana – my Ana – was nothing like me, Damon, and I’m so grateful for that. It means she was happy.”

“I won’t bother being insulted.” Damon said dryly.

Katherine rolled her eyes, feeling much better. “Present times exempt, my life has been pretty crap, admit it.”

Reluctantly pulling herself from Damon’s arms, she rose to stretch, rolling her shoulders, a frown crossing her face as she caught sight of a faded yellow scroll sitting on the desk on the other side of the small room. She crossed to it in a few strides, unrolling it to see her mother’s faint handwriting. She had never bothered to enter this room all those centuries ago, when she found her family dead, but now she wished she had.

“What does it say?” Damon asked.

Katherine took a deep breath, taking a moment to translate the words into modern English. “My darling Katerina, it has now been three months since you left us, and I miss you more with each passing day. I can only hope that you are well and wish that I had the courage to bring you home. You may not have been forgiven in the eyes of our Lord, but you have in my heart. Your father wishes to shut away the memory of your child, but I could never ignore family, no matter the circumstance of her birth. I only wish I had had the strength to allow you to see her, Katerina, for she was such a beautiful child. Although I have no doubt that I can never take away the pain you feel at losing a child – the pain I too must live with – I wished to lessen it somehow, so I am sending you my latest secret, created both from memory, imagination, and a wish that it did not have to be so. I hope this letter and my gift finds you well and happy, and that one day you can forgive me and be forgiven. All my love, Mama."

“What does she mean by her latest secret?” Damon frowned.

“She painted.” Katherine whispered. “It wasn’t a past-time Father would have disapproved of, but she liked keeping it from him so he didn’t dictate what she was to paint.” She sighed heavily. “This was dated a few days before I found them dead. She never got a chance to send it.”

“I wonder what happened to the painting.” Damon said.

“I guess we’ll never know.” Katherine muttered, carefully folding the letter and slipping it inside her jacket. “Unless you can see a painting around here?”

Damon shook his head. “Maybe it was in one of the downstairs rooms and someone hung it or something.”

“Maybe.” Katherine conceded, crossing to the door. “We’ll have a look before we leave.”

Damon stood, recognising her need to leave the memories behind again, but reached into the chest by the window and retrieved the blanket she had pulled out earlier. And as Katherine disappeared down the winding staircase, he pulled the desk forward slightly and removed the object he had spotted when they entered the room, but that she had somehow missed – a rolled-up canvas that any artist would recognise as a stored portrait.

Now all he had to do was get it out of the house and back to the States without Katherine seeing it.


	4. Chapter 4

Later, Damon would have no idea how he actually managed to sneak the painting out of the house, but somehow he managed it, and compelled one of the oblivious employees to have it shipped to the boarding house, where he hid it away in one of the many unused rooms to see if he could restore it.

Despite what Katherine had told Elena shortly after she turned, art was not a hobby Damon had taken up as a vampire. Elsie – the maid who had practically raised him and Stefan after their mother passed – had taught him to paint when his father was otherwise occupied, and it was a past-time that had always soothed him, forcing him to slow down and think clearly.

When he had finally flipped the switch in the seventies, unable to cope with Katherine’s absence any longer, he had stopped painting, until he learned she wasn’t in the tomb. In the haze of anger and betrayal that followed, he hadn’t even realised he had resorted to old habits until Elena had happened upon him smearing paint on to a canvas so angrily he was surprised it hadn’t torn straight through to the easel behind.

Now, that painting hung in a hallway that was normally hidden behind locked doors, a hallway that didn’t really lead anywhere, but was filled with most of the artwork he had produced over the centuries – at least, the ones that truly meant something.

Finally, a week after their return from Bulgaria, a few days before Stefan and Elena were due home, he had finished.

And he still had time to complete the _other_ project no one knew about.

With a brief smirk at how he had managed to keep Katherine in the dark, Damon took the newly restored and framed painting down to the gallery and hung it in the space he had created, before going to find his girl.

He found her emerging from the basement, sipping from a blood bag, which she offered him with a smile.

Damon snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her into his body. “I’d rather have you.” He growled into her throat.

Katherine chuckled, finishing off the blood bag and tossing it in the vague direction of the trash can in favour of winding her arms around his neck, tilting her head back to give him better access. “Then by all means … help yourself.”

With a brief pressure against her skin, his fangs slid into her throat like butter, allowing him a long draw of her blood. Her eyes rolled back into her head with pleasure, and she gripped the back of his neck, keeping him in place, a low moan escaping her lips.

Damon wasn’t complaining, not for a second, but vampires didn’t eventually replenish their blood supply by themselves, the way humans did, so he offered her his wrist, smirking into her throat when she returned the favour.

They parted a few minutes later, their lips stained with blood, the wounds already healing. Katherine’s tongue darted out to clean away the remnants of her meal, her eyes heavy with promise and desire. “Someone’s in a good mood.” She purred.

“I’ve got something for you.” Damon said in response, taking her hand. “Come on.”

“Does that something involve us both naked?” Katherine asked.

“Maybe eventually.” Damon answered. “But not to start with.”

Katherine raised an eyebrow. They never shared blood without it being sex-related. “Then why …?”

“Because you’re going to want something stronger than a blood bag.” Damon said, flashing her a smile over his shoulder. “And you’re irresistible anyway.” He stopped outside the gallery doors and turned to face her, taking her other hand. “Now I have a confession to make.”

“Oh, here we go.” Katherine said with a smile. “What did you do?”

“When we were in Bulgaria, when you found that letter from your mom, I may have noticed what she was talking about, and I may have smuggled it back here.” Damon admitted.

Katherine was silent for a second, and he winced. For all her secret-keeping, Katherine Pierce did _not_ like being kept in the dark, and he was playing a dangerous game.

“Why?” She asked finally.

“Because paintings – especially unframed paintings – get damaged over time.” Damon said. “I was hoping I could restore it for you.”

“And could you?” Katherine asked.

“It took me a while, but yeah, I could.” Damon nodded to the doors behind him. “It’s right through there.” He stepped back to allow her through, and she pushed open the doors to the gallery, her eyes landing on the first painting on her right.

It wasn’t a huge painting, but it was exquisite in detail. Her gaze lingered on her own sleeping face, a painted smile on her lips, before travelling down to the baby cradled in her arms, her head resting on her mother’s breast, one tiny hand clutching at her gown.

_“… created from both memory, imagination, and a wish that it did not have to be so.”_

Her mother had created this using the memory of both her daughter and granddaughter, and imagined what it would have looked like had Katherine been allowed to hold her child, all the while wishing it were real.

Katherine was seeing baby Anastasia for the first time, and knowing what she had looked like as an adult did nothing to prepare for the ache of grief and love that seemed to collide with her like a rocket, leaving her defenceless to prevent the sob that bubbled out of her throat against her will.

Damon was by her side in a split-second, and she flung her arms around him, burrowing into his chest, but all without taking her eyes away from her daughter.

“Is it okay?” He asked, his voice uncertain.

“It’s perfect.” Katherine whispered. “Thank you.”

“You know, I didn’t actually paint it.” Damon said lightly, kissing her head.

“That’s not the point.” Katherine said, managing to get herself under control. “I’ve spent five hundred years having to pretend she never existed, with everyone telling me that because she was a bastard child, she didn’t count or wasn’t acknowledged, and … Thank you for admitting she existed.”

“Katherine, she was your _daughter_.” Damon repeated softly. “Doesn’t that make her my stepdaughter or something?”

Katherine was generally a fairly upbeat vampire, but every now and then Damon realised that he rarely saw a truly genuine smile on her face.

Now was one of those times – a smile lit up her eyes, and he couldn’t help returning it, deciding he had to make her smile like that more often.

With Katherine, the smallest gestures were often the biggest, and she nestled into his chest, resting her head against his heart. “Yeah.” She said quietly. “I guess it does.”

Damon dropped another kiss on her head, and they stayed standing in quiet contemplation for a little while longer.

Finally, Katherine lifted her head, her eyes reluctantly leaving her daughter, to travel along the other paintings. “These others are all yours, aren’t they?”

“They are.” Damon confirmed, loosening his grip to allow her to wander along the corridor.

Katherine trod carefully. Damon was quite protective of this part of his life; it was obvious in the way his body tensed ever so slightly. But there was nothing that suggested he wanted her to stop, and he had brought her in here in the first place, so she wasn’t too worried for the moment.

After a few steps, she stopped to admire a painting of a woman sitting on the bank of a river. Her face was turned away from the artist, dark hair flowing down her back, her full skirts settled around her. “This was in Venice.” She said softly. “In 1898.”

“Yeah it was.” Damon said, a frown evident in his voice. “You remember the year?”

“I remember the painting.” Katherine corrected. “There’s one thing I never told you about the night I left Mystic Falls.”

Damon gave a small resigned sigh. “And what might that be?”

“I thought you were dead.” Katherine admitted, still examining the painting. “There shouldn’t have been enough blood in your system to turn you. That was the other reason I didn’t stay and help Stefan; I couldn’t face knowing that I’d killed you.”

“I thought you said you re-compelled all my victims for several decades after I turned?” Damon said.

“I did.” Katherine agreed. “A few years after Mystic Falls, I heard a rumour of a young vampire in town, who was having compulsion issues. The description sounded like you, but I was always too much of a coward to get close enough to make sure it was you. In 1868, I followed the rumours to Venice and it started raining …”

 

_Ladies were never supposed to be in a hurry. They were supposed to be relaxed and poised at all times._

_It was difficult to be relaxed and poised in the middle of a busy street, with the rain pounding down on her, even with an umbrella sheltering her from the worst of the weather._

_Had the scene been less crowded, Katherine would have resorted to running back to the hotel she was staying in, but with this many eyes, it was nothing less than stupid._

_There was an art exhibition up ahead, and she ducked inside, lowering her umbrella immediately and absently shaking off the worst of the water before handing it to the doorman with a smile._

_It wasn’t as though she had anywhere pressing to be today after all, and she had always appreciated art, an appreciation her mother had passed on to her as a child._

_Unwilling to dwell for too long on her family, Katherine stepped into the main hall, accepting a drink from one of the waiters, sipping at it as she wandered through the paintings._

_Unlike some other exhibitions she had attended, where entry was by invitation only, this was far more accessible to the man and woman on the street, and they were taking advantage of it, parents lifting children to see artwork they were captivated by. She could see some of the more well-off citizens turning their nose up at displays like these, and her smile grew._

_Growing up with a father with a superiority complex had left Katherine with an intense dislike for those who thought they were better than others simply due to the circumstance of their birth. Not that she didn’t prefer living the life of a wealthy woman – who wouldn’t? – but that didn’t mean she acted like a snob, unless she had to._

_Today, she didn’t have to._

_Klaus was nowhere near Venice, she knew. The only possible danger was the mystery vampire she was trailing, but he had either learned compulsion properly or she was mistaken about his whereabouts, because she hadn’t seen or heard a thing in several days. So, feeling safer than usual and with her humanity switch still firmly on, she had no problem chatting with the other visitors about the art-work, even teaching some of the children about the different places portrayed in the pictures, enjoying every scandalous look or gasp aimed her way from her supposed peers._

_One painting in particular caught her attention, and she returned to it several times. It was unremarkable in concept – in fact, there were probably hundreds of paintings of a lady by a river bank across the world – but this one caught her eye primarily because of the river._

_It reminded her uncannily of the river that led down to the quarry in Mystic Falls, and she was just deciding if it was her imagination or if it really was the same river, when an elderly lady approached to admire the same painting._

_“Beautiful.” She commented in Italian. “Do you know the artist?”_

_“Why do you ask?” Katherine asked, a little taken aback._

_The woman smiled at her. “She looks a lot like you.”_

_Katherine looked closer at the painting, focussing now on the woman sat by the river instead of the setting itself. Her face was turned away, but her hair and figure definitely could have been Katherine’s – and probably a hundred other women as well. Except …_

_There was a necklace around the girl’s neck, just visible above the neckline of her dress, and it was just too small to really make out, but it looked a little too much like her daylight necklace for her to be comfortable with._

_“I’m afraid I do not know who the artist is.” She confessed, trying to keep her tone casual. “Do you?”_

_“I do not know his name.” The woman said. “But he is in the gallery today – see?”  
_

_Katherine followed her gesture to a crowd of people across the room, where the artist was holding court, and her heart leapt into her throat._

_She would know that smile, those eyes, that body anywhere, could pick them out of a line-up with her eyes closed, and for a split-second, she almost gave in to her wish to run across the room into his arms, and let him hold her again._

_But she could not – would not – endanger him in such a reckless manner._

_Her smile disappeared, replacing her expression with a coldness formed through years of survival, and she turned to the woman she was speaking to her, catching her eyes. “You will forget you ever saw me and tell no one of this conversation.”_

_And then she left the gallery, collecting her umbrella and departing from a small alcove so she could run back to the hotel, not allowing herself to relax until the door of her room was safely shut and locked behind her._

_Damon – her Damon – was alive, or as alive as a vampire could be._

_She had done it._

_She had turned him, and abandoned him, and now he was so close that she could feel his embrace, his lips on hers, travelling down her body, igniting a fire that no man should be able to inspire in her._

_But she held firm. He could not know._

_As long as she remained dead to the world, he was safe._

_Tomorrow, she would leave Venice and put as much distance between them as she could._

_Tomorrow, she would start tracking down her descendants in preparation for the next doppelganger’s arrival; if her information and her calculations were correct, they would be born towards the end of the next century._

_Tomorrow, she would take the first steps towards bargaining her freedom._

_But for now, she lay down and wept for one more love that she had lost._

 

In the wake of Katherine’s story, the gallery was silent.

“It was you.” Damon said after a while. “I thought I saw you – out of the corner of my eye – but then you were gone.”

Katherine couldn’t help the small sigh of relief that escaped her. She hadn’t realised how close she had been to being discovered. She felt him flinch against her slightly and closed her eyes. “I was trying to protect you.”

“I know.” He said quietly.

Desperate to change the subject, Katherine moved away from the painting. As she neared the far end of the corridor, she could practically feel Damon’s tension rise and turned back towards him. “Fancy a walk?”

Damon raised an eyebrow. “Not going any further?”

Katherine smiled tightly. “Art is personal, Damon. I won’t take it as an insult if you don’t want me to see everything here.”

Damon hesitated for a second. “No, it’s okay. Just … the next painting down here is … Well, I painted it after I found out you weren’t in the tomb.”

Katherine narrowed her eyes slightly, trying to decide whether he didn’t want her to see the painting because it was too personal, or if he was trying to spare her feelings.

Deciding it was the latter, she turned her attention to the next work, only to have her unneeded breath stolen from her lungs.

Rather predictably, she was the subject, the background dark, almost black. She was dressed in a sheer white dress, so sheer her naked form was almost visible beneath the material. Her arms were crossed across her body, one holding a dagger poised as though to plunge it into someone’s heart (or back, her mind supplied), the other clutching a heart so tightly that blood dripped from between her clenched fingers. Her face was human, adorned by a cruel smirk, but, looking closely, she could see the faint veins beneath her eyes, the glint of a fang behind her lips, a small bead of blood on her chin. Against the backdrop, she seemed to glow, almost illuminated by a circle of light above her head.

“It’s stunning.” She whispered.

“It’s hardly flattering!” Damon protested.

“I didn’t say it was flattering.” Katherine said mildly. “Although in a way, it is. I said, it’s stunning. The artwork alone …” She frowned slightly. “You know, I get most of it, but what’s with the halo?”

“What do you mean?” Damon asked.

Katherine smiled. “I’ve seen enough of your work, Damon. You’re meticulous. You don’t put anything in your art that doesn’t mean something. The dress is white, the colour of innocence, but it’s so thin that it’s a veil. You’ve managed to capture my human face and my vampire face – they don’t call it being two-faced for nothing. That sort of posture is normally reserved for the avenging angel, except they usually hold a Bible or scales in one hand and the sword of justice and truth in the other. I’m holding a dagger and a heart, because you felt I’d betrayed you. But what’s with the halo?”

Damon sighed. “It wasn’t there to start with. The original was darker than this. But it didn’t make me feel any better. It normally does. Elena came across me painting it. She still wasn’t completely comfortable around me at the time, but she suggested that it might help if I acknowledged everything I felt, not just the negative. And the truth of the matter was that whatever you’d done, I still loved you. You were still my humanity.” He chuckled humourlessly. “I hated that.”

“You hated _me_.” Katherine corrected, studying the brush-strokes.

“No I didn’t.” Damon said. “I wanted to. God knows I _tried_ , but I could never really hate you, Kitten. I love you too much.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder, and she leaned back against him. “I just couldn’t stop hearing Anna in that tomb and …”

“Anna?” Katherine asked sharply. “What did she say?”

“Well, after spending ages convincing me to work with her to get into the tomb to get you and Pearl out, she decided to let me know that you were never in there in the first place, and that you knew exactly where I was, you just didn’t care.” Damon said bitterly.

Katherine twisted around in his arms, winding hers around his neck. “That’s not true. I did know where you were a lot of the time, admittedly, but of course I cared! You know that, don’t you?”

“I do now.” Damon assured her, holding her tightly. “Now I know you were stalking me.”

“I wasn’t exactly stalking you.” Katherine insisted. “I was … I don’t know. I’d get word that you were in, say, Rome, and I’d find myself heading there, because I’d tell myself that you’d have left so it was the last place you’d be. And then I’d get there, and I’d find myself looking for you, because I’d tell myself that it was better that I saw you before you saw me, and there was a small chance that you were still there. And then I’d see you. And I’d have to admit that … I just missed you, and just seeing your face, even though it hurt that I could do nothing else, it gave me strength to keep going.”

It was a statement so unlike Katherine that it struck Damon dumb for a few minutes. In his quiet reflection, her eyes wandered to the only other painting at this end of the hall, one of the first proper artworks he had created, and he knew that it was time they talked.

“ _That’s_ beautiful.” She said, slipping out of his arms to admire it. “Me again?”

“Who else?” Damon asked with a smile.

This rendering was also dressed in white, but a far purer outfit than that of her darker counterpart – in fact, unless Katherine was very much mistaken, it was …

“It was my mother’s.” Damon said quietly. “She always dreamed of a daughter who could get married in it. I figured she wouldn’t mind a daughter-in-law instead.”

A lump formed in Katherine’s throat and she fought to get rid of it, trying to distinguish the shadowy groom standing behind her bride. “Is there a reason I can’t make out his face?”

“I painted this when I was human.” Damon admitted. “It felt like a jinx, assuming it would be me.”

“It would have been.” Katherine said with certainty. “Whatever was going on.”

It was a perfect opening, and Damon seized it immediately. “You know, Elena and I had a chat before the wedding …”

“I know.” Katherine said, still admiring the painting. “I heard.”

Something unpleasant clutched at Damon’s chest. “You … You heard?” He frowned slightly. “Are we talking about the same conversation?”

“I think so.” Katherine said, finally turning to face him again. “I get it, Damon.”

“You aren’t upset?” He asked.

Katherine gave him a sad smile. “A little. But Elena was wrong, Damon. She isn’t often – and don’t tell her I said that, or I’ll have to deny it and then hurt you – but this time, she was. I understand how you must feel, Damon, and I don’t blame you one bit. I was never naïve enough to think that 145 years of perceived betrayal would just disappear. You’re still waiting for the other shoe to drop, Damon, I can see it in your eyes. You’re waiting for me to disappear again, and yes, that hurts, but I made my bed, now I have to lie in it. Maybe one day you’ll completely trust me again, but until then, I will spend the rest of eternity trying to get that trust back.” She vowed, brushing a kiss against his jaw. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Damon had been trying to figure out when and how this conversation would play out for weeks, since his conversation with Elena, but when Katherine began talking, it had thrown any of his guesses off completely. Only when she kissed him again did he realise that he couldn’t have planned this moment any better.

Gently breaking away from her kiss, he rested his forehead against hers. “Brief pause. I have a question. Answer it, and it’s back to fireworks and rocket’s red glare. Answer it right, and I’ll forget the 145 years that I spent missing you. I’ll forget everything and we can start over. This can be our defining moment, because we have the time. That’s the beauty of eternity.”

He didn’t elaborate, but then he didn’t need to. He never needed to with Katherine, because she just knew.

“I already know your question.” She whispered. “And its answer. The truth is, I’ve always loved you, Damon. Yes.”

Damon smirked. “I haven’t asked you anything yet. I could be asking anything from ‘will you marry me’ to ‘do you want to go and have hot vamp sex in the woods’.”

Katherine laughed. “Damon, the answer will _always_ be yes.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ducks* I know, it's been forever. But ... work ... and fics ... and f*cking hell, Julie, what is this script you've got going on at the moment ... and ... Oh, you get the idea. Sorry it took so long.

Three days later, Stefan and Elena walked through the front door of the boarding house and exchanged an immediately worried look.

Old houses absorbed emotion like a sponge, and the atmosphere in the boarding house was almost euphoric.

“Uh oh.” Elena whispered.

“How was Europe?” Katherine called from the top of the stairs.

“Don’t distract me.” Elena responded, smirking. “What did you do?”

“What makes you think I did anything?” Katherine asked, vaulting over the railings and landing in front of them.

“You’re happy.” Elena said, her suspicion mounting when Katherine hugged her. “I mean, _really_ happy. I’ve never seen you this happy.”

Katherine smiled secretively. “No one’s dead. I promise. How was Europe?”

Elena’s face lit up, letting her change the subject. “It was fantastic! We travelled through the back roads, avoided almost all the tourist traps …”

“Good move.” Katherine said, nodding at Stefan. Europe had some fascinating history (even for her), but a lot of the places most popular with tourists were largely overrated in her opinion. The best experiences usually came from places the locals kept to themselves.

Stefan gave her a smile and kissed Elena’s cheek as he passed. “I’ll take the bags up, sweetheart.”

“Thank you.” Elena responded, letting Katherine pull her into the living room. “Seriously, Kat, what is up with you today?”

“I think Damon proposed.” Katherine answered.

Elena’s mouth dropped open before she could stop it and she hastily fought to regain her composure. “Seriously? I mean … there was …”

“I overheard the conversation, Elena.” Katherine said, taking pity on her. “I agreed with him, but we talked about it, and … yeah, I think he proposed.”

“What did you say?” Elena asked.

“Well, what do you think?” Katherine asked, rolling her eyes. “Given that I’m clearly in a _very_ good mood.”

“Sarcasm not needed.” Elena said wearily. “I’m really happy for you. Speaking of which, where _is_ Damon?”

“That … is a good question.” Katherine admitted, frowning. “He went out this morning, and hasn’t come back yet.”

As if Elena’s query was a signal, Katherine’s phone rang and she answered it. “Damon, where are you?”

 _“Dealing with something.”_ Damon answered vaguely. _“They home yet?”_

Katherine glanced at Elena. “Yes, they’re home.”

 _“Take them into the library.”_ Damon told her. _“There’s a surprise.”_

He hung up before she could question him, and slipped her phone away with a heavy sigh. “Apparently, I’m to take you into the library and show you ‘the surprise’.”

“What surprise?” Elena asked suspiciously.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Katherine said, standing up.

Stefan joined them in the hallway and Katherine led them through to the library, where the painting above the fireplace had been covered with a sheet.

“What’s he up to?” Stefan asked.

“I don’t know.” Katherine repeated. “He’s been up to something for the last few weeks, since you two left, but he’s never told me, and I haven’t asked. Elena, do you want to do the honours?”

With a small amount of hesitation, Elena stepped forward and tugged on the sheet so it fell to the ground. Her hands flew to her mouth with a gasp, tears springing to her eyes, when the painting – formally an old image of a church – was revealed to be a copy of one of their wedding photos.

Katherine raised an eyebrow. “I owe him an apology. He wasn’t leaving that speech as a wedding present after all.”

“This wasn’t commissioned.” Elena whispered, clutching Stefan’s hand. “This is one of his.”

“Yes, it is.” Katherine agreed mildly.

“Why isn’t he here?” Stefan asked.

Katherine laughed. “You know what Damon’s like with sentiment, Stefan. He’s avoiding it.”

Elena sniffed. “Well, if he thinks I’m letting him get away with that – I don’t care how long I have to wait, I’m crying on him whether he likes it or not.”

Elena was as good as her word.

She held back her tears for the next three hours, amidst coaxing the full ‘proposal’ story out of Katherine, unpacking, and telling Caroline and Bonnie about the trip when they turned up to visit her.

Finally, the Camaro pulled up outside, the front door slammed, and Elena excused herself from her best friends to blur into the hallway. “You.”

“Elena, don’t make this a thing.” Damon warned.

Elena rolled her eyes. “You’re a dick; c’mere.” She pulled him into a hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

Damon heaved a sigh. “You’re welcome. Don’t make it a thing.”

“I’m not.” Elena muttered, blinking rapidly. “The urge to cry has waned.”

“Good.” Damon said, a little smugly. “Then my plan worked.”

Elena pulled away from him, smacking his arm. “You are impossible. Absolutely impossible.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Damon smirked.

“I’ll get you later.” Elena said threateningly. “You don’t do something like that and get away with it. _And_ you get to deal with Caroline.”

Ignoring his protests, Elena dragged him back into the living room where he welcomed Stefan with a handshake before Caroline flung herself at him.

Amidst Damon’s threats and Katherine’s laughter, the doorbell rang and Elena excused herself to answer it.

She expected to find Rebekah or Tyler, maybe Jeremy or Matt, if they’d finished work early, but instead, she found …

“Elijah.”

“Good afternoon, Elena.” He greeted. “I hope I’m not disturbing?”

“No, no.” Elena said hurriedly. “Come in, please. Stefan and I only just got back, so we’ve got a houseful. Is something wrong?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Elijah said. “I was hoping I could talk to you – I need your help.”

“You don’t need me to break another curse, do you?” Elena asked, only half-joking.

Elijah chuckled. “No, Elena. No curses.”

“Good.” Elena said, leading him through to the living room. “Elijah’s here, he needs help.”

The smile vanished from Katherine’s face immediately, and Damon blurred to her side, his movement offset by Stefan stepping forward to shake Elijah’s hand. “What can we do for you?”

“Do you know where my brother is right now?” Elijah asked in response.

“Which one?” Elena asked.

“Niklaus.”

“Oh, is that all?” Caroline said dismissively. “He’s in New Orleans.” She flushed a little when everyone’s gazes turned to her. “He told me at the wedding. He used to rule the city – still does – but there are some witches plotting against him, so he’s gone back to put a stop to it.”

“A succinct summary.” Elijah said, nodding to her. “But that is not why I’m here, Miss Forbes, I merely wanted to be sure I wasn’t repeating what you already knew.”

Caroline sighed. “Let me guess. It’s not witches.”

Elijah’s lips twitched. “No, it is not. The ringleader appears to be an old protégé of Niklaus’s – Marcel – and my sources suggest that he has in his possession a white oak stake.”

“How?” Elena asked. “The only one floating around was with Mikael and it burned with his body. And we destroyed ours in the name of the truce, right?”

Damon grimaced when she looked at him. “Not exactly, given that I didn’t trust Klaus as far as I could throw him. But they’re locked away, safe. _Not_ in New Orleans. You’re forgetting, Elena, that the tree on our property made a whole bridge and only some of it was then used to make the sign. The rest of it got scrapped; it could be anywhere.”

“What exactly do you need our help with?” Bonnie asked.

“I cannot seem to contact my brother.” Elijah explained. “And I am at a loss as to how to help him. I have alerted Kol; he is returning from Asia, but …”

“Kol’s hardly subtle.” Stefan said with a frown. “It’ll just tip your hand.”

“Exactly.” Elijah agreed. “I was hoping that maybe you could find a solution that we could not.”

“Leave it with us.” Elena said. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Katherine tuned out Elijah’s departure, reaching up to kiss Damon’s cheek and whisper, “Stop glaring, you’re being obvious.”

Damon’s eyes softened as he looked down at her, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist. “You know why.”

Katherine rolled her eyes affectionately. “I’m yours. You know that.”

“If you two have quite finished,” Elena said, “we did say we’d try to come up with something.”

“I’ll call the others.” Bonny said, pulling out her phone.

“Caroline, did Klaus say anything else to you?” Stefan asked. “Has he been in contact at all?”

“Not for a while.” Caroline answered. “He sent me a few texts after he left, but he never talked about himself. It was always about me, college, Miss Mystic Falls – he managed to get his hands on my application, but …”

“Caroline.” Elena interjected gently.

“Right.” Caroline said, taking a deep breath. “The only time he mentioned New Orleans, he left me this.” She dialled the voicemail on her phone and held it out so they could hear it.

_“Caroline, I’m standing in one of my favourite places in the world surrounded by food, music, art, culture, and all I can think about is how much I want to show it to you. Maybe one day you’ll let me.”_

“That was about a month ago.” Caroline said quietly. “I haven’t heard from him since and his phone’s out of service.”

“Could be magic.” Bonnie said. “Stopping anyone from contacting him and warning him.”

“Which means whatever we do, we have to do it from inside New Orleans.” Damon concluded. “So good luck, Barbie.”

Caroline’s eyes widened. “Me?! Why am I going?!”

“Because the rest of us would be recognised.” Katherine answered. “We’ve all caused trouble in New Orleans in the past, except for Elena, but people will think she’s me. If we’re going to pull this off, we need someone who can blend in. That’s you.”

“Let’s figure out what we’re going to pull off first.” Stefan said hastily. “Did you call them, Bonnie?”

“They’re on their way.” Bonnie confirmed, just as a car pulled up outside.

Rebekah appeared in front of them in a blur of colour. “Elijah?”

“Already left.” Katherine answered. “It’s the other one you need to worry about.”

“What’s going on?” Rebekah demanded, as Matt and Jeremy followed her in at a more sedate pace, Tyler and Hayley at their heels.

Elena had liked Hayley immediately and she welcomed her with no less affection and enthusiasm than she did her friends, while Damon ‘gently’ broke the news to Rebekah.

“Some psychos in New Orleans have got their hands on a white oak stake and they’re going after Klaus.”

“Damon!” Elena protested, her voice mingling with Caroline’s and – surprisingly – Katherine’s.

Rebekah turned a dangerous shade of white and clutched the hand that Matt offered her. “Oh my God.”

“He’ll be alright, Beks.” Matt whispered. “He’s Klaus. I’m fairly sure he’s too stubborn to die.”

This surprised a laugh out of her and he kissed her cheek as Elena turned, wide-eyed, to Stefan. “When did that happen?!”

“I was with you.” Stefan reminded her. “We need a plan, guys.”

“Yeah, or you guys are screwed.” Jeremy said, frowning.

Damon sighed. “What are you talking about, Baby Gilbert?”

Jeremy’s scowl deepened at the nickname, but he elaborated anyway. “The bloodline curse? If Klaus dies, you all die too, right?”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room, before Damon said, “Just so I know, I’m not the only one who forgot about that, right?”

A round of negatives answered him, before Matt said, “Wait, you seriously forgot?”

“It hasn’t been an issue since the truce.” Elena pointed out. “So we haven’t had to think about it.”

“Then why are you helping him?” Rebekah asked.

“Because in spite of everything,” Stefan said, “he’s our friend. Just like you are. And that’s what we do. Right now, we need a plan.”

“First of all,” Bonnie said, “Rebekah, call Elijah and Kol and tell them to stay away from New Orleans. As much as I hate to admit it, Damon and Katherine are right – this is going to take a subtle touch.”

Rebekah looked up at her with hope glimmering in her eyes. “Bonnie?”

“I have a plan.” Bonnie confirmed. “And it just might work …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you may have guessed, this is the end of 'Part One: Coming Home', but I did say this story was in two parts (check the summary), so stay tuned for 'Part Two: Born to Rule', in which Caroline heads to New Orleans.


	6. Chapter 6

Okay, so I was originally going to post the next saga of this series as Part 2 of Transfusion.

But then I started watching The Originals and that plan changed.

So Transfusion is going to end here - look out for the next installment in the Vampire Diaries/Originals crossover section, tentatively entitled 'Treachery'.


End file.
